Hello! If you're reading this during July 2013, then I'm busy writing for NaNoWriMo! I'm also busy taking a class over this month, so I will be harder to reach. However, I have written a short story to be published over this month for you to enjoy. You'll find an update on things twice this month. Enjoy!
Backstory: Brecken is sent to Skull Island to fight in the resistance against the invading Armada. She meets Errol and does not want to befriend him. After meeting with Captain Avery, Brecken teaches Errol a few fighting skills and sends him to sleep.
Backstory: Brecken is sent to Skull Island to fight in the resistance against the invading Armada. She meets Errol and does not want to befriend him. After meeting with Captain Avery, Brecken teaches Errol a few fighting skills and sends him to sleep.
"Fiona,"
Brecken called into the cave, smiling, "Never thought I'd see
you again."
"I said that
we'd meet." Fiona Parker twirled a lock of hair between her
fingers. Small crabs scuttled across the cave floor, unwary of the
explosions on the outside, "You camping out, too?"
"I need to get
home," Brecken admitted, walking across the cave-room. She shot
at larger crabs that tried to latch onto her ankles. Brecken sat
down next to Fiona. Other people were in the cave, but they were
sleeping.
"They fly at night," Fiona explained, "The poor souls." Fiona waved her hand, and a pan of water below a spit began to boil, "They're all mine, Avery says."
"They fly at night," Fiona explained, "The poor souls." Fiona waved her hand, and a pan of water below a spit began to boil, "They're all mine, Avery says."
"That's nice,"
Brecken said. She knew Fiona to be the fiesty mix between a
tried-and-true privateer and slightly spooky witchdoctor. Fiona
hadn't ever been so sleep deprived, Brecken observed. Brecken
heated her hands in the rising steam. She helped Fiona stir a pot of
soup above the bubbling pan.
"We can't
really afford the tavern's stuff," Fiona sighed, "We have
enough money, but things happen, you know. Mikey, our navigator,
sports bad limbs as of yet."
"That's why
he's below?" Brecken asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Exactly."
"Your ship
crashed recently," Brecken getured to a wheel in the corner of
the cave. She kept shooting at the crabs.
"Yes, it did,"
Fiona mumured indifferently. Brecken looked towards the rest of the
cave. Originally, members of the Red Claw had inhabited this space,
but it seemed like since she rescued a local rat squirt that the
crabs had fled elsewhere. From the rest of Fiona's crew, Brecken
heard snoring. They were battered and beaten from combat, relishing
what hours of sleep they could muster.
"I can go out
tonight," Brecken offered, "I can sail a ship through the
home ways."
"It's
alright," Fiona murmured, "You left your crew behind,
anyways."
"I have a
friend," Brecken said, "An ample fighter, newer to the
ranks." Brecken couldn't possibly imagine Errol, who had just
learned to fight, out in the skies fighting the clockwork armada. She
voiced ti anyways, "It would work out. I defeated six of them on
my own." Fiona shrugged.
"It's your choice," she sighed, brushing back a lock of hair with a comb, "Do whatever doesn't get you killed."
"It's your choice," she sighed, brushing back a lock of hair with a comb, "Do whatever doesn't get you killed."
"Then I stay
and we both die," Brecken countered, "I was sent here to
do this. There's plenty of shellfish." Blasting another crab
into a corner, Brecken stood up and left the cave, stepping over the
crabs which now turned away.
Skull Island
evenings used to be some of Brecken 's favorites. The sand blew
across the wharf and toppled over the island and into the air. The
fish that swam in the reef near Fiona's cave glowed in the dark.
Brecken held her boots in one hand, wading through the water
barefoot. Hearing the screeches of her skarakeet, Brecken shook out
her feet, one by one, and slipped her boots back on. Into the
clearing came Errol, whose hands were scratched up from fending the
bird off. The daggers were on his belt.
"Come on,"
Brecken sighed, gesturing with her hand. She walked onto the
platform looking over the dock. On it, pirates fought clockwork
soldiers that never got too close to the platform itself. An Armada
galleon was docked in the central section of the docks. Brecken slid
down the wooden banister, creeping through the fight. Neither a
pirate nor a clockwork turned towards her. Errol sighed and tried to
mimic what Brecken had done. He closed his eyes and felt a veil of
shadow wash over him. He crept down the creaky stairs and through the
battle, almost getting hit a few times. In time, he reached a
bison-origin galleon, a fine piece of art made by bison braves. Gems
made the figurehead glow. Pictures of windlanes and similar gems were
pained on the sides. They didn't seem to have worn at all since
Brecken had last sailed with Fiona. She expertly scaled a rope
ladder and felt her own source of shadow disperse as she took the
helm of the galleon. When she began to sail out, Errol had just
barely flopped over on the deck. Brecken spun the wheel and watched
the ship spin in the air around and towards the windlane. Peering
over the side, Brecken noticed that ships were everywhere, from
hulking galleons to creaking rafts. All were jam-packed with raging
pirates and the occasional clockwork. Fewer Armada galleons traversed
the skies, but those that did got through quite a bit of air before
getting shot down. Few made it to the docks.
"Look, one
made it!" Errol barked from down below, "We have to
intercept the clockworks!" Brecken, from the corner of her
peripherals, saw a horde of pirates charge.
"It'll be
fine, Errol," Brecken grumbled, "Do me a favor and look out
the sides." Errol darted to the side of the ship and coughed.
"This air is
so dry," he complained. Brecken, from inside her coat, revealed
a golden spyglass. She stalled the ship and walked on the deck. She
winced and offered it.
"This belonged
to my grandmother," Brecken warned, "Use it carefully."
Errol wore the chain on the spyglass on his neck. Brecken returned to
the wheel and started steering again. She wasn't as strong as the
buccaneers on her crew who would have happily steered, but she
managed. It was disorienting to hear no noise from below, just
Errol's anxious steps and cannonfire.
"There's a
port in Jonah Town, I heard," Errol noted, "Maybe we can
stop there after a round of going through." Brecken sighed,
making a puff of white in the evening air.
"If so,"
Brecken said, "Then we'll be too held up getting back out to be
back on the Island before sundown. That's when things get dangerous."
"I know,"
Errol said in a sing-song tone, "As the Armada fleets grow, the
opposition coming from Blood Shoals may be too much when we sail
back." Brecken took her hands off of the wheel, staring back
perplexed. Errol was right. Fiona had led them on a death mission.
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